


Forget Rather Than Cherish

by PhantomSwelling



Series: Destruction Used To Be Fun [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blow Job, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Drinking, Gay, M/M, but maybe that's because I wrote it, but that's probaby still because I wrote it, club setting, i honestly don't know why im still tagging, i think it's pretty awkward tbh, i'm done i think, is the blowjob scene thing awkward?, just read it, please?, thank you, the ending is a little odd too, uh tell me what you think, you're too kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:14:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomSwelling/pseuds/PhantomSwelling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No,” Gerard replies lightly, his head still tilted to the side and his cheeks tinted red, “If you don’t mind me asking and the fact that it’s probably none of my business, I’d like to know why you choose to go to the bar every night and drink it all away. What could possibly be so bad about your life that you’d rather forget than cherish every moment you have?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget Rather Than Cherish

**Author's Note:**

> For a beautiful translation into Russian by miss_ardeur: https://ficbook.net/readfic/3579606

The strobe lights are flashing, pulsing to the intoxicating beat of the music and bodies are swaying together rhythmically. The place smells of sweat and booze and sex, and there is an endless amount of unclothed people dancing around. The club is packed and the bar is even worse. Thankfully, Frank is a regular and what the bartender likes to call 'an early bird', which basically means that Frank's there from the time the club opens to the time it closes, and he gets the same seat every night as if he owns it. Frank supposes it's kind of a joke that may have been funny at one point but isn't so much anymore because he's still somewhat sober.

Frank turns around in the rotating stool and doesn't even care that he misjudged his power on the swing and ended up circling aimlessly for a few seconds. Eventually, he catches himself on the bar, giggling loudly at nothing in particular, and manages to turn around and face the dance floor. He sees the endless amount of people thrashing together like an ocean of sweaty bodies and he thinks about joining them before another cold beer is thrust in his direction with a vague flick of his finger and he's losing his train of thought to more senseless brain babbling. Plus, it's not like anyone wants to dance with him anyway.

Frank spins back around in his chair and faces the bar less enthusiastically because, yeah, who would want to dance with him? He goes from being giggly and buoyant to sad and self-loathing in less than a minute. Thankfully, his favorite bartender is already leaning against the bar in front of him with his eyebrows raised in question, and, fuck, Frank pretty much loves him right now. Sadly, he can't even remember his name or how much money has already gone toward his seemingly never ending tab as he orders the strongest whiskey they've got and several shots. He's thinking out loud about mixing his alcohol before his bartender sighs and cuts him off. Now, he's left hanging with nothing more to drink but the water from the tap that he's actually pretty well acquainted with.

He feels dizzy and light as he makes his way off the stool. The dance floor suddenly looks more inviting than it did earlier as he carefully makes his way into the crowd. He can hear someone calling his name, but he doesn't even want to remember his own name anymore, so he pretends he doesn't hear. What kind of name is Frank anyway?

Once he's in the crowd, he doesn't have to put in much effort because the mass moves together and he's swaying in time like everyone else. His limbs are connected with someone else's and it's hard to distinguish who belongs to who. The world is spinning crazily and the music is suddenly way louder than it was before.

He doesn't even care that his vision is blurred and he's struggling to stay on his feet. He's drunk off his ass and he's never felt better than he does when he's drunk enough to forget he visited the night before and the night before that. All that matters is the beat and adrenaline coursing through his body with the alcohol forming intricate patterns in his veins with his blood. He's probably way over legal limit and scary close to some kind of alcohol poisoning, and perhaps he'd worry about it more if he was sober enough to worry.

Instead, he gets lost in the pale arms that circle around his waist and he leans his head back on that person's shoulder, rubbing his butt on the crotch of someone's pants. His eyes are half shut and this lights are somewhat blurrier now than they were when his eyes were opened all the way. By now, he's sure that the person he's rubbing against is a guy and it doesn't even bother him.

Frank finally manages to open his eyes completely and rolls his head over to get a good look at the guy he's definitely grinding against. Frank's shocked at how cute his dancing partner is with his pale skin and sweat-flattened black hair and twists around to wrap his arms around cute guy's neck and sway together while looking at each other. They come face to face and Frank falls into his intense hazel eyes and stares into his eyes, meeting his blown pupils before he has to blink and the spell is broken.

Frank leans forward on his tiptoes quickly because he's shorter than his dancing partner and nibbles on his partner's ear, breathing gently on his neck, on impulse. His partner shivers pleasantly and Frank jerks his hips forward so his partner gasps deliciously in his ear. Frank grins and stands on his tiptoes again and leans in towards his partner's neck where bits of sweat have collected. He licks slowly and sensually all the way to the back of his partner's ear and feels his partner's grip tighten on his waist and digging hard enough into his hips to leave little finger imprints through his jeans.

Frank rocks their hips together to the music and feels his partner's hands slide down until he’s gripping Frank’s ass tightly. Frank brings their lips together and when he opens his eyes again his partner's still got his closed. Frank watches his pale lids open slowly and his blown pupils meet Frank's and that's all he can take. Frank grinds their hips together one last time causing both of them to gasp before grabbing the hot stranger's hand and dragging him towards the club's restroom.

Towards the restrooms the music becomes quieter, but they're met by people waiting in line to use the facility. Frank's feeling a little too sober for his liking and grabs some partying chick's drink right out from her hands and she's too slow to notice it.

Frank shifts his pants uncomfortably a few times to hide his hard on, but all his effort goes out the window when the stranger puts his head down on Frank's shoulder, his hair tickling Frank’s neck, and groans softly. Frank leans back slowly and feels the stranger's breath quicken when he gently rubs the stranger's thigh through his pants. The stranger thrusts sharply once into Frank's hip, and that's the last of Frank’s self control.

Frank grabs the stranger's hand and they make haste to the back exit of the club where a giant red sign reads, in big uppercase letters, the word 'exit'. Frank barely has time to register that the alley is the dirtiest thing he's ever seen, covered in trash and gunk, and strongly smells like piss because the stranger suddenly takes control and Frank's being slammed up against the rough brick wall outside the club.

The stranger roughly drops down onto his knees and starts palming Frank through his jeans. Frank throws his head back against the bricks and feels it pull at his hair when his knees threaten to buckle. The stranger grips Frank's thighs hard enough to leave bruises and Frank moans softly causing the stranger to smirk from the side of his obscene pretty pink lips and unzip Frank's zipper.

Frank barely has time to breathe before his dick is out in the open, the cold air pressing against it from all directions, and the stranger is pressing his tongue to the slit without preamble. Frank tries to grab roughly at the brick wall, his fingers sending pangs of barely registered pain to his brain, and throws his head back roughly as the stranger opens his mouth completely and takes Frank all in one go. Frank's a stuttering mess as the stranger keeps the pressure of his thighs and hollows out his cheeks. Before Frank can stop himself, he's thrusting into the stranger's mouth, just once, and the stranger hums deliciously sending vibrations that go straight to Frank's curling toes.

Frank feels the hot guy's tongue rub the sensitive vein at the bottom of Frank's dick and Frank thinks he's in love with the stranger when he finds a way to take him down even deeper, Frank's head hitting the back of his throat. Frank opens his mouth in response and a jumble of words he can't even control escape his mouth, "You're really fucking good at this." 

Frank pulls out and thrusts back in roughly and the stranger opens his mouth and stops moving his head. Frank starts fucking his mouth, not breaking contact from the blacked hazel eyes and stutters out roughly, "You like this, don't you? You like the feel of my dick fucking your mouth, thick and heavy on your tongue, filling your pretty mouth."

The hot guy closes his eyes and let's out another long moan that has Frank dangerously close to the edge. Suddenly, all Frank can feel is the tightening in his balls and the way the flow of energy tingles from the tip of this toes to the top of his head. The feelings zaps sharply up his spine and he's thrusting even slower to prolong the hot, wet, tight feeling of the guy's mouth. The stranger finally unzips his own zipper and starts jerking himself off quickly and beautifully. Frank means to tell him that he’ll help him get off but he's so close his own release.

Instead, Frank throws his head back once more, colliding with the wall and feeling the familiar grip the bricks have on his hair as his head moves. The tightening is now joined with a familiar pooling in Frank's stomach and causing him to pant quickly, his fingers tangling in the hot guy's hair and pulling a little roughly. The stranger only raises his eyebrows and hums, making Frank’s back arch off the wall and he grips the stranger's head particularly hard again to signal that he's about to cum.

The stranger hums in acknowledgment before pulling back marginally to wrap his lips around Frank's head and continue pumping him with his hand. Frank finally loses all control and sees stars as he cums, moaning loudly. The hot guy milks him for all he’s worth and waits until Frank’s whimpering from sensitivity before slowing down and spitting on the pavement.

Frank feels his knees shaking and leans heavily against the wall, panting and trying to regain his breath. He’s pretty sure he’s just received the best blowjob of his life and he’s not ready for the hot guy to leave just yet, but he can’t find the strength to speak, let alone grab the stranger’s wrist and drag him back to the apartment for more. 

The stranger stands up quickly and brushes the dust and dirt off his knees as Frank lazily tucks himself back into his jeans. They catch eyes awkwardly a few times before the stranger gives Frank a lopsided smile and a odd little half wave and then turns around, making his way out of the alley. Frank knows it’s now or never and breathlessly calls out, “Wait!”

The guy stops and breathes in deeply a couple times before turning back around. Frank heaves himself away from the wall and runs a hand through his hair, unsure of what he was even going to say. He was pretty sure that the stranger wasn’t going to take too well to, ‘hey, wanna become more acquainted to my bed and dick?’ Yeah, Frank didn’t think so. 

The hot guy takes a few hesitant steps back towards Frank, his hair messed up from Frank’s hands gripping it, and smiles awkwardly, one eyebrow raised in question. Frank opens his mouth to say something before he rolls his eyes at himself and shakes his head. The guy nods before walking away and disappearing around the corner.

Frank sighs at himself after watching the stranger leave, shaking his head, and debates whether or not he wants to return to the club, but just one look down at his rumpled clothes and the way he can barely stand on weak knees makes him decide against it. 

It isn’t until Frank reaches the inside of his apartment that he realizes he let the hottest guy he’s seen in a while just walk away from him. He shakes his head again miserably before stumbling into his bedroom, not even bothering to lock his front door. 

He passes his floor length mirror and snorts at the dark rings underneath his eyes as he strips off his stinking clothes. He debates whether or not he should take a shower and then decides that it can wait until morning. He collapses face first onto his bed and wonders vaguely if he’s drunk enough that he won’t wake up if his covers start to suffocate him but falls asleep that way nonetheless.

***

By next week, Frank can’t even remember his own middle name as he swings drunkenly on the barstool, ordering another beer. His vision is completely blurred and he’s seeing triple of everything. The spinning isn’t helping, but he’s having so much fun that he can’t even begin to comprehend why he needs to stop. He knows that the only reason he’s getting away with it is because his usual and favorite bartender is off tonight and they have a newbie in his place. He’s glad that no one warned the newbie about him because Frank’s convinced this is the most fun he’s ever had.

Eventually, he stops spinning and his eyes manage to stop seeing three of everything for a few seconds as he gets off the stool. The DJ is playing a song Frank recognizes and he makes his way over to the dance floor. Just like before, he’s automatically connected with the crowd. They drag him along to the beat of the song and his limbs are always connected to another being and almost inseparable. He sways to the beat and swears he feels the liquid sloshing angrily inside his stomach. He feels his stomach start to ache in an all too familiar way. He knows, without a doubt now, that he’s going to be sick and to make matters worse, a pair of pale hands circle around his waist, keeping him in the crowd.

Frank twists around quickly in panic and meets a familiar pair of hazel eyes that have embedded themselves inside his memory and he wants to say something, but the sick feeling is making its way up his throat, and if he’s not quick enough, the hot stranger isn’t ever going to want to see him again. Frank steps quickly on his tiptoes next to hot stranger’s ear and whisper-shouts, “I’m so sorry!” before he bolts from the crowd towards the restrooms. 

Because he’s drunk, it’s hard to run and he’s swaying everywhere, not going very far. His shoulder hits a corner that he’s pretty sure wasn’t there just a minute ago before he reaches the restroom hallway. He’s pretty sure that he’s about to throw up every last bit of food he’s consumed in the last week but there’s nothing he can do about it when he’s met with the familiar line outside the restrooms. By now, he’s desperate and has to breathe heavily out of his nose until the bright red exit sign catches his eyes. He makes a split decision and is bolting out the door and into the alley before anyone has a chance to stop him.

Before, he hadn’t had time to recognize the smell of the alley, but now he can tell that it is a strong mixture of piss and some kind of musty smell that clings to his nostrils. That’s pretty much all he can take before he’s dragging his hand along the wall to steady himself and bending over to throw up what feels like every organ in his body. 

He hears someone else exit through the same back door he had just come through and Frank is beyond humiliated. He doesn’t even turn around to see who it is before he decides that he just needs to get away from the puddle he personally created. He barely takes two steps before he’s retching again and swaying unsteadily all over the place. He trips over something that he can’t see--it could’ve been his own shoelace for all he knows--and falls down harshly to his knees. He feels a sharp stinging pain in his palms and left knee from the fall, and he’s pretty sure that he scratched the shit out them from the small slide on the concrete. 

Frank’s shaking all over due to the fact that he hadn’t really eaten anything but the peanuts from the bar earlier and wipes lazily at his mouth with the back of his hand. He lets out a shaky breath before his stomach lurches again and he’s throwing up once more. As he’s doing so, he can hear someone sitting down next to him on the ground, using one hand to rub soothing circles on his upper back and the other hand to hold his hair out of his face. The stranger beside him is singing softly to him as his stomach slowly settles down. Frank closes his eyes for a second, breathing hard and wipes halfheartedly at his mouth again. 

The stranger pulls Frank away from the puke with ease and lets Frank lay his head against his chest and rest a little on his lap. Frank breathes in deeply through his nose a few times to make sure he isn’t going to continue throwing up before slowly opening his eyes.

The world around him continues to double and triple, but he can’t mistake the three blurry but familiar sets of hazel eyes that stare down at him. Frank feels a whole new wave of humiliation wash over him and it makes his face flame up in a way it hadn’t since he was a freshman in high school. He closes his eyes tightly again and feels the stranger’s hands idly running through his hair. He sighs almost inaudibly and starts to get up. 

The stranger seems to understand what Frank’s trying to do and helps him up. Frank mumbles out his thank you before he starts walking away from the stranger and back towards the club for another drink since his mouth feels a little too dry. He doesn’t get too far before he’s reaching out for the wall to steady himself because his legs feel weak and he’s shaking pretty badly. He hears a sigh before the same feeling from earlier gathers in the pit of his stomach and he’s throwing up yet again. He falls to his knees and winces when he hits the same cuts from earlier and causes more. 

He feels the same pair of hands reach for his hair and rub his back soothingly yet again. He takes a deep breath once he’s sure he’s finished and wipes his mouth, too afraid to get up. He barely tilts his head towards the general direction of the stranger and slurs, “I don’t think I can get up again on my own.” 

The stranger lets out a breathy laugh, “It’s okay. Let’s just get you home, is that alright?” 

Frank nods, unable to say anything, and the stranger kneels down next to Frank so Frank places his arm around the stranger’s shoulders. The stranger carefully and slowly wraps his free arm around Frank’s waist and on the count of three he lifts the two of them up. Frank rests his head on the stranger’s shoulder as they make it out of the alley and onto the main sidewalk where there are still people lined up outside to get in. 

The bouncer waves at Frank in acknowledgment and Frank barely manages to nod back before his eyelids feel heavy and the stranger’s shoulder turns into a nice and comfortable pillow. He closes his eyes tiredly and doesn’t remember much after that.

***

Frank comes back into consciousness and feels warm and secure, which is weird since he’d used his electric money on his tab and club entry fees and almost always forgets to sleep under the covers. He keeps his eyelids closed and knows that the sun is shining heavily through the window or something because there’s a violent red tint behind his eyelids and an all too familiar pounding in his head. He means to open his eyes, but he can’t seem to make himself face that obstacle just yet. Instead, he listens and can hear the murmur of someone talking in another room and the padding of bare feet on a tiled floor. Every sound travels directly into his brain and makes it throb painfully until he’s sure his head is going to explode.

He carefully opens one eye at a time, gritting his teeth against the pain, so the sun can’t dramatically burn his eyes right out of their sockets and he cautiously looks around the unfamiliar room, catching the sight of the white curtains against dark navy blue walls. He briefly wonders who the fuck buys white curtains but then he forgives that person when his eyes land on the black nightstand to his left and the cold glass of water with two aspirin pills resting on it. 

He slowly sits up and notices the soft, black comforter as it rides down his bare chest. It’s then that he notices that he’s in nothing but his boxers and his clothes are nowhere to be seen. He sighs deeply before reaching over to grab the goodies he’s all too familiar with on the nightstand. 

His throat feels like sandpaper when he swallows the pill and water mixture but he manages to do it with minimal wincing. Slowly, and very carefully, Frank throws back the comforter and goose bumps rise on his bare legs as he steps onto the soft beige carpet, gripping his head. It only takes a few seconds to get across the room from the bed to the door and Frank considers just walking out but one glance down at his boxer clad self has him rethinking the whole situation. Instead, he presses his ear to the door and tries to listen to the faint voice he heard earlier. 

The voice is a bit clearer now and Frank hears a soft, “Well, I couldn’t have just left him there, now could I? What would you have done Mikey?” There’s a brief pause to which to stranger groans during, “Yeah, whatever. Of course you’d say that. I didn’t have time to think about it, okay, and you have. He looked all sick and miserable and we both know that I’ve been like that a couple of times with no one to help me out. Plus, it’s your fault he was like that. Ray warned you about him.” There’s another pause to which Frank slowly grabs the doorknob and twists it quietly. He hopes that the stranger isn’t talking about him, but the chances of that being true are slim to none.

Frank’s a little disappointed he isn’t able to see the guy the voice is coming from from where he’s peeking through the crack in the door or even remember how he ended up at this stranger’s house. The living room, which he can only see half of, is just as unfamiliar as the bedroom and by the blankets and pillow folded neatly on the end of the black couch, Frank can tell that he stranger slept on it last night. Frank feels bad that the stranger slept on the couch, but he’s pretty sure he’d be sorrier if it was him waking up to a sore back, neck, and head. 

With the door open, the stranger’s voice is louder. He can tell it’s coming from the door directly across from the bedroom, and he can hear the stranger’s feet padding on the tiled floor in the room as if he’s pacing as he talks on the phone--well, Frank hopes he’s talking on the phone anyways because the other alternative has Frank frightened to meet the guy who gave him his bed. 

Frank’s about to enter the kitchen when his eyes catch sight of a small square table next to the front door and sees his clothes from the night before resting on it. He gives a cautious glance towards what he assumes to be the kitchen, if the sound of clinking glass is anything to go by, and hears the stranger sigh, “I know, Mikey, I promise I’m being careful. I’m just waiting for this pot of coffee to stop brewing and then I’m going to go wake him up and offer to take him back to wherever he lives.” 

Frank decides that it’s now or never and quickly walks over to his clothes. He briskly slips his pants on and is just pulling his shirt over his head when he hears a door opening. Frank spins around in surprise, which is pretty stupid considering his shirt is covering his face and only one arm is tucked in a sleeve, and accidentally trips over the small table that was holding his clothes. He falls on top of it and hears the groaning and splintering of wood before everything is silent. Then, out of nowhere he hears a small, “Uh, Mikey, I’ll call you back later.”

Underneath Frank’s shirt, his face is on fire. Not only was he caught but he also just made a pretty big fool out of himself. He must look ridiculous, sitting on a table that isn’t meant to support a child let alone a grown man with his shirt only half on and his arm dangling in the air, stuck in the sleeve. Frank closes his eyes tightly as he pulls the shirt the rest of the way down and wills his face to turn back to its normal color. There’s nothing but silence coming from the room and he’s almost convinced that the stranger isn’t in there with him. It’s a win-lose situation anyways. If the stranger’s in the room, Frank looks like an idiot, but he can thank the guy who opened his home up to a drunken idiot. If the stranger isn’t in the room, Frank’s still an idiot but at least no one’s there to see it.

After a few more moments of silence, Frank manages to convince himself that he’s alone and takes a deep breath before opening his eyes. Instead of opening his eyes to an empty room, he’s met with the sight of a beautiful stranger with a red face, black hair, familiar hazel eyes, and a hand thrown over his mouth. The stranger’s shoulders are silently shaking but his eyes are wide open and smiling in Frank’s direction. Frank feels his face heat up all over again and is about to close his eyes again and will himself to disappear when the stranger lets out a strange noise that’s either laughter or he’s choking on his tongue. 

Frank’s about to ask him if he’s okay when the stranger finally removes his hand from his mouth and laughs ridiculously loudly, successfully hurting Frank’s head, and trying to speak at the same time, “You should’ve-”

He giggles and tries to start again, “Your arm, it was-” 

The stranger keeps laughing and Frank’s about ready to run through the door in embarrassment but he can’t see his shoes or socks from where he’s still sitting on the table. He ends up having to wait until the stranger composes himself before he slowly stands up from the table, ignoring the sounds of splinters creaking under his weight for the second time. The stranger lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously like another round of laughter before he composes himself and smiles gently at Frank, “I was just going to check on you and bring your clothes into the room for you to change into. You kind of, um, got puke on them last night, so I washed them for you while you were sleeping.” 

Frank nods slowly, “Uh, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” the stranger replies, smiling, “but I figured it was the nicest thing to do. You were pretty out of it last night.” He pauses for a second and wrings his hands together, “Anyways, I made coffee if you like that. If not, I have other stuff.” Frank’s about to decline but the stranger doesn’t stop talking, making Frank change his mind, “It’s not good to take medicine on an empty stomach, but I didn’t want you to have to deal with the hangover any longer than you had to. No pressure though. I can drive you back to your place or something. Your socks and shoes are in the kitchen. I can get them for you and stuff but the choice is yours.”

Frank smiles and the stranger smiles back, “Coffee sounds great actually, uh-?”

“Gerard,” the stranger supplies easily, shrugging his shoulders. 

Frank nods, “Frank.” 

Gerard’s cheeks redden a bit, “Yeah, I, uh, already figured that out. I found your wallet in your pants pocket. Thankfully, I found it before I washed your pants and I looked at your ID. I’m sorry if you're angry, and I understand that I’ve crossed a line, but I promise I didn’t take anything or look at anything except your ID. You can check if you want to.”

Frank nods awkwardly before a heavy silence settles between them. Gerard wrings his hands together again before mumbling something about their coffee being ready and waving vaguely in Frank’s direction. Frank takes that as his cue to follow Gerard into the kitchen and does so. 

The kitchen is brighter than the rest of the house with vibrant red walls. White cabinets and countertops decorate the perimeter of the room with nice brown hardwood tiles. In here, the curtains are open and again a lacey white that doesn’t bother Frank as much as it did when it was in Gerard’s bedroom. 

A little ways away from the whole kitchen setup, there’s a square red and white checkered table with four small chairs that are almost like stools. Gerard busies himself with getting mugs out of one of the top cabinets while Frank sits down on one of the stools, alternating between looking at Gerard and examining his cut up hands, which are resting palm up on top of the table, in confusion. He vaguely remembers falling the night before and throwing up, but he still doesn’t remember how he got to Gerard’s house.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when Gerard sets down a steaming mug of plain black coffee in front of him and Frank smiles up gratefully at him. Gerard beams back widely, revealing a row of tiny teeth, and tucks a long strand of black hair behind his ear as he pulls out the chair across from Frank. He somehow manages to do that gracefully and all the while balancing his own large mug, talking quietly, “I don’t know how you like it, so I didn’t add anything to it.”

“Black’s just fine.” Frank smiles.

They sip awkwardly for the first couple of minutes, sending small glances towards one another over the tops of their mugs when they think the other isn’t looking, and, more often than not, their eyes meet for a second before they both scramble to look away. 

Gerard ends up finishing his coffee before Frank’s even halfway through and hastily pushes his chair back, scraping it loudly across the tiled floor. His face turns adorably red and Frank has to take another giant gulp to keep himself from giggling at the way they’re behaving. What finally breaks the ice is when Gerard laughs, “Well, that was louder than I thought it would be. Do you want more coffee?” 

Frank glances down at his own mug that’s still half full, “Uh, no, no thank you. I was actually wondering if you’d be fine with filling in a few blanks for me from last night?” 

Gerard pours another full cup and sets it back on the table before rummaging through the cabinets, “I wouldn’t mind answering a few questions for the parts I was there for, but I probably won’t be much help because I only saw you towards the end of the night. Also, are you hungry?” 

Frank’s head is still trying to keep up with Gerard when he mumbles, “That’s fine and no.” 

Gerard keeps searching through the cabinets and looks at Frank after a while, holding a child’s cereal box above his head, “Are you sure?”

Frank smiles down at the table, “I never eat in the mornings, but if that’s something you do, then I’ll eat, too, so it’s less awkward on you.” 

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I don’t really eat in the mornings either. I was just curious, I guess.” Gerard puts the cereal box back into the cabinet and brings his mug back to the table, sitting back down across from Frank, and looking back and forth between his mug and Frank’s face before he adds softly, “So, um, what do you want to know?”

Frank feels his face heat up and he looks down at the pattern on the table, “I want to know what happened last night. I remember spinning on the stool at the bar and then joining the crowd only to have to run off and puke. I don’t remember anything after you helping me get out of the alley besides the bouncer. He waved at me or something.” Frank pauses and something dawns on him, “Shit, did you get in trouble with him? He’s very fucking protective of everyone at the club.” 

Gerard speaks quietly, running his pointer finger around the top of his mug, “Well, after I helped you out of the alley and you passed out on my shoulder, Bob, that’s his name by the way, came running up to me and threatened to call the cops if someone had slipped something in your drink or did something to you.” Gerard laughs tensely, “I spent like ten minutes explaining to him that no one had done such thing and that you’d just had a lot to drink and passed out. In the end, I just told him to call me because that idiot already has my number and he knows it. He called me not even five minutes later to ensure that you were being taken care of properly.”

Frank leans back a little on his stool and feels his face heat up and a little weirded out that Gerard seemed to know the bouncer so well, “Shit, Gerard, I’m so sorry. I’m more trouble than I’m worth half the time.”

“No,” Gerard replies, wide-eyed and startled, “I mean, don’t be sorry about that! You should be glad there are people out there who are concerned about you and worry constantly if you’re going to get home safely. Plus, Bob and I talked for a bit after I got you to bed and we settled things. He’s very protective of you because he apparently sees you a lot. He was just very worried, that’s all.”

Frank rubbed his eyes tiredly, “Bob’s going to give me so much shit the next time I see him, isn’t he?” Gerard nods sympathetically and his about to say something when Frank remembers the young bartender who had supplied him all last night, “I hope the new bartender doesn’t get in trouble because I can’t control myself. God, I’ve made a mess of everything.”

Gerard peeks at Frank through his hair and fights a smile, “Well, it’s nice to know you’re looking out for him, but he really does need to be fired. Well, he would’ve been if he was hired in the first place. He doesn’t know anything about mixing drinks and he was only filling in because Ray fucked up the bar schedule and gave everyone the night off instead of just himself.”

Frank feels his eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Do you know him or something?”

Gerard can no longer hide his smile and he nods, “Yeah, he’s, uh, my brother. Ray, the usual bartender, warned Mikey, my brother, about you and he forgot. He refuses to admit that he forgot though and he’s trying to say he did it on purpose, but I know Mikey wouldn’t do something like that to a person. Well, not after he had to put up with me a few years ago that is.”

Frank is confused with all the new names and information, “Uh, is Ray the one with the curly hair?”

Gerard smiles widely and gestures wildly with his hands as he speaks, “Yep, that’s him! He actually owns the bar. He inherited it from his father a few years back and really made it into something more. It was falling apart before Ray took ahold of it.”

Frank nods, speaking only to process the information, “I can’t believe I’ve never learned his name before now. Ray, huh.” 

“Yeah, Ray.” Gerard nods slowly, watching Frank closely. Frank squirms uncomfortably in his seat and takes a few small sips to mask the awkwardness radiating from him. It isn’t until he can barely look up from the rim of his mug that Gerard’s eyes and gaze soften, lightening the mood. 

Gerard tilts his head to the side in wonder and Frank can’t take it anymore, “What?”

Gerard blinks almost like he didn’t know he was staring before he lets out a long breath and his shoulders droop, “I guess I just wanted to figure out what happened last night.”

“What do you mean? You obviously have more memory about it than I do.” Frank tries to laugh it off.

“No,” Gerard replies lightly, his head still tilted to the side and his cheeks tinted red, “If you don’t mind me asking and the fact that it’s probably none of my business, I’d like to know why you choose to go to the bar every night and drink it all away. What could possibly be so bad about your life that you’d rather forget than cherish every moment you have?”

Frank opens his mouth and then promptly closes it again. His heart feels heavy in his chest and his palms are sweating from where they’re resting on the mug. He rubs them roughly on his jeans and looks at everything in the kitchen except Gerard. The silence between them thickens and Frank suspects that if it had been anyone but Gerard who had asked this, he would’ve told them just how much it wasn’t their business, but what exactly wasn’t their business? What did he have to forget, what didn’t he want to remember? 

For what feels like an hour but probably lasted a couple of seconds, Frank nervously fidgets and doesn’t have an answer. His usual carefree and looking-for-fun attitude died in his throat and now he’s not sure what to think, he’s not sure he knows and the truth is that he doesn’t. That’s when it hits him. His answering voice comes out small and as an inaudible whisper, “I don’t know.”

Gerard nods though he didn’t hear, “I used to be that way, you know? I thought that everything was against me and nothing was worth remembering. I spent a lot of time trying to get away from myself and then I hit rock bottom.” He pauses for a second, his eyes staring past Frank before he blinks and is back in the present, “I know you probably don’t want to hear someone tell you how to live your life, but this, this thing you’re doing isn’t going to make anything easier or better.”

Frank shook his head quickly, his eyebrows furrowing together, suddenly defensive, “Okay, look Gerard, I know you’re trying to help and all but it’s my decision. I get to choose how I live my life and I didn’t ask you to take me in. I’m very grateful for what you did, but you should’ve just left me there if this is really bothering you.”

Gerard looks down at his forgotten mug before peeking back up at Frank through his hair, “I’m sorry I offended you, Frank. I didn’t mean to. I understand if you want to go home now and forget about this whole thing, I guess.”

Frank shakes his head, sighing and rubbing his temples, “No--well, yes, I do want to go home but not because of you or whatever. I’m just really tired and want to take a shower, brush my teeth, catch a few more hours of sleep, and stuff.” 

Nodding understandingly but still a little unsurely, Gerard stands up and reaches for Frank’s still half full mug. Frank lets him take it because it was probably cold by now anyways and watches him dump them both in the sink. Frank leans back uneasily in the chair and keeps rubbing his temples lightly as Gerard calls back, “Hey, Frank?”

“Yeah?” Frank answers tiredly over the sound of Gerard washing their mugs by hand.

“I want you to know that I don’t regret taking you back here, okay? I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t worth saving, but you are and I guess I just really wanted you to see that.” Frank doesn’t know what to say to that or how to get rid of the warm feeling pooling in his stomach at Gerard’s words, but Gerard saves him from having to. “Your shoes and socks are by the kitchen door if you still want to leave. Your wallet is in your left shoe, I believe.” 

Frank nods in Gerard’s general direction before getting up and grabbing his shoes. Once Frank’s all set and the dishes are left on a drying rack, Gerard leads Frank to the front door. Frank feels a little disappointed that he’s leaving so soon, but he holds it down and pushes the feeling away as Gerard holds the door open for him and he’s stepping outside. 

He’s about to walk off but turns around at the last moment, “Hey, Gerard, thank you, you know, for doing what not many people would do for a guy like me.”

Gerard runs his hand through his hair, smiling lightly, “You just got a little lost. You’re not a bad guy.”

Frank smiles and wants so badly to believe Gerard, but it isn’t happening. Frank just smiles back, “Right, so, uh, see you around, I guess.”

“Oh, wait!” Gerard goes to grab Frank but changes his mind at the last minute, letting it hang awkwardly between them before he brings his hand down, his face red with embarrassment written all over it, “Uh, do you need a ride back to your place? I don’t know if you live far from here or not.”

Frank turns around and looks down the balcony to the street below. He’s a bit disappointed that he recognizes the street Gerard’s apartment is on and that his house is just a few blocks down from here. He passes it every night to get to the club and he’d still go for that ride just to spend a little more time with the guy who believes in him, but he’d feel ridiculous getting a drive for the same distance he can cover drunk and almost incapacitated. 

Instead, Frank shoves his hands in his pants pockets and turns back to Gerard, “No, uh, my apartment isn’t too far from here actually.”

Frank pretends to miss the disappointed look that crosses over Gerard’s face as he turns to leave. He listens for the closing of Gerard’s door as he descends the stairs that must’ve been hell to get him up the night before, and is surprised when he doesn’t hear it until he’s all the way down on the sidewalk below. Frank feels that now familiar warm feeling in the pit of his stomach and it makes their departing and the walk home much easier.

***

When Frank gets back to his apartment, he doesn’t bother searching for a key because he honestly can’t remember the last time he’s locked his door. He just walks right in and for the first time in forever it’s a completely sober activity. There’s a sense of pride fueling him as he stands in the doorway and he closes his eyes to contain it for a little while longer. He knows once he opens his eyes and breathes in deeply, he’s going to have to face the reality of how he’s been living for the last year and a half and it’s almost enough to make him regret it already. 

He slowly opens one eye at a time and feels disappointed in the vast amounts of bottles and stains covering the floor. There’s a strong smell of alcohol that burns his nostrils when he’s brave enough to breathe in through his nose and the curtains are closed to keep all sunlight and life out. He remembers Gerard’s stupid white curtains and a small smile slips past his lips; they might’ve been stupid, but Frank’s now thinking about investing in them, too. 

Frank walks quickly across his apartment, going room to room, opening all the curtains and windows until his home, for the first time, is bright and open and livable. He looks around with his hands on his hips at the bottles covering the floor and starts picking them up one by one, knowing that today he’s going to try something new for himself. It’s a long tiring process, but he decides it’s definitely one he needs to take. He decides it’s going to start with several bottles of carpet cleaner, pine sol, and other nicely scented cleaners.

Later on that night, Frank sits tiredly on his couch, sinking into the lavender smelling cushions and feeling a sense of accomplishment after a full day of cleaning. He takes in a deep breath through his nose and smells nothing but the strong scent of bleach mixed with lavender and pine sol. He brings his feet up on his coffee table and likes the way his carpet looks almost new apart from the few stains that were impossible to remove. He looks around his living room and feels like there’s hope for him after all and just wishes that Gerard was there to see Frank was capable of being better. He wanted to thank Gerard for showing him that being different was an option.

It’s barely ten at night, but Frank is exhausted and really just wants to sleep the last of his drinking away. He wants to start fresh tomorrow and learn to live sober. 

He has to heave himself off the sofa and closes the windows again until tomorrow, he tells himself, but leaves the curtains wide open. He reaches his front door before smiling to himself and locking it. He mentally reminds himself that he needs to find his house key tomorrow so he can start locking his door when he leaves. 

It isn’t until he’s tucked into bed that he realizes how much effort he put into cleaning and he can’t stop thinking that it was definitely worth it as he drifts off into sleep.

***

The next few days are the hardest Frank has been through in a while. His mind feels odd without the constant aid of alcohol and his hands are always shaking. He tries to pass the time by cleaning but there is only so much in a small apartment that needs cleaning. He’s shaking all over and the walls seem to be suffocating him. He makes a split decision to go take a walk and get some fresh air. He quickly grabs his keys and wallet as he heads out the door, forgetting his jacket in the process.

The air is nice and there’s a cool breeze that sends goose bumps traveling up his arms. He walks along the sidewalk aimlessly, taking deep breaths and already feeling calmer than he has in a while. His mind doesn’t feel as jumbled and his hands aren’t shaking so much anymore. 

He crosses the street at an intersection without even thinking about it and his feet take him to the only place he’s known to go to when he feels this way.

He stops outside his favorite liquor store and feels his heartbeat quicken in anticipation. He licks his lips and he wants to stop himself, but the shakings returned and he doesn’t feel too well. He reaches instinctively for his wallet to check if he has enough money and stops counting when his finger brushes over a slip of paper that he hasn’t seen before tucked in with the dollar bills. 

He stops leafing through his cash and pulls out the folded slip of paper, tucking his wallet back in his pocket. He unfolds it quickly and reads it twice before a smile splits across his face and he’s laughing for the first time since he’s decided to sober up. Frank looks back up at the liquor store and then back down at the note before taking a deep breath and turning around to head back to his house. 

On the back of an old receipt, in neat handwriting, was a simple ten digit phone number and the nine words that kept Frank from rebounding: 

“Hopefully we can meet again when you’re sober. -Gerard”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my lovely friend ToxicDamage on Wattpad. She's a gem, go check out her works. <3 
> 
> This will be two parts, too. Yeah, so thank you for reading. It's greatly appreciated. Feel free to drop comments and constructive criticism is always, always, always needed and welcome.


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